The News-Herald. [volume] (Hillsboro, Highland Co., Ohio) 1886-1973, 1887-05-05

HE PLACED ONE HAND ON BERNARDINo.
softly away and walked on and on, never
once stopping, except for an occasional bit
of rest or to beg chunk of brown bread
and cup of water, until he was safe in the
City of Lilies. Once in Florence he was
content despite his absolute poverty. He
knew that no one would ever come there
who had known him in the quarries, and
there was nothing else which he feared or
dreaded.
When he fled from the mountains he had
thought that all would be well with him If
he could only reach Florence. Just how to
put himself in position of comfort he did
not know. That there was way he had no
never yet been confronted with failure, be-
cause he had never yet attempted anything
beyond his easy reach. But to be young and
hungry and alone in Florence, with no one
to whom he could turn for bread, and with
no trade by which he could earn bread, that
was quite another matter. Still, since he had
dreadful thing as disappointment in the
world, he, in his utter ignorance and uncon-
sciousness of life, felt that he was ready to
proceed by whatever pathway was opened
to him, never dreaming but that some path
way would be opened TO him.
His bright, handsome face, SO young in
eyes, and long. ietty hair; his exquisite
shape and graceful carriage. and, more than
all, his divine smile and musical voice, won
for him admiration and attention, and so
made his way easier. No one refused him
the little he wanted in the way of food and
drink, and neither was he refused place to
sleep. but when he talked of sustaining
himself by means of the little he knew
about art they laughed at him. Not deris-
lively, but gOOd-naturedly and out of pity.
That, they told him, was the easiest OF all
ways of starving. To make art pay, they
said, one must have fortune to start with.
Bernardino sighed. He had thought all
fortune at the outset, that was very hard.
III you were only in Rome. now, instead
of in Florence, you might, as helper to some
sculptor, support yourself. There is nc
other way. But here in Florence even that
is impossible" said an old wrinkled and
grizzled dealer in bronzes and marbles:
"Altro" cried strong. voice, in disgust
"Who dares speak such vile slander against
Florence, the very mother OF art When
has she ever denied her artists living"
"Tornellop' whispered the loungers in the
shop, staring at the newcomer. "Torneilo-
the sculptor"
There was blaze of mingled contempt
and anger in Tornello's eyes and Q curl Of
scorn on his lips. He did not wait for an
answer, but placed one hand upon Ber.
nardino's shoulder and looked straight into
the boys eyes. first wonderingly and then
tendefly.
"DOnst let them discourage you with theil
idle croaking," he said. III you have any
han instinct 9f ;s you need have no fear wha
"Ican cut leaves and flowers and vine.
out Of stone, and can make them - much
like life - those In the churches"
Tornello smiled, but restrained himsel
about him. The boys frankness pleaset
him. II took him back 70 the sweet ol(
days when he, too, had faith In himself.
"Come With me, |" he said. ''end tomorrow
you shs,i q. % O. zone vines and leaves ans
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